News International’s Leadership Crisis

Among the many shocking facts that have emerged from the News of the Worldhacking crisis, it is the revelations about News International’s dysfunctional leadership and the NoW’s brutal organizational culture that have gripped me most. Whatever laws have been broken, however many victims of phone hacking come forward and estalishment figures become embroiled in the scandal, it is the toxic culture and the dysfunctional leadership at the heart of NI that are likely to prove its undoing.

British newsrooms are confrontational and idiosyncratic. As a young journalist on the Times and Sunday Times in the early 1990s, my forays into ‘Fortress Wapping‘ were memorable. As deadlines approached, editors became more aggressive, pacing up and down the newsroom and shouting at staff. I can still hear one editor screaming at me across the newsroom, “Shut up, it’s not a democracy!” The word bullying was never mentioned, but it was evident all around me, and anyone could come under the spotlight at any time. Those who stayed long enough became inured to it, having tacitly accepted that it was just part of the NI culture.

While British broadsheets maintain a veneer of civility, the tabloids are notoriously tough places to work. The sheer aggression and tenacity required to hunt out sensational stories week after week produce formidably steely and resilient journalists, particularly those who rise to the top. The NoW culture was especially brutal, and its journalists developed ever more ingenious ways to find stories, which included, as we now know breaking the law, paying the police for information and covering up wrongdoings. But the NoW’s purpose was always clear: to be a sensation-generating, money-making machine that titillated the public and financed NI’s more respectable titles, and this it did brilliantly.

While the decision to close down the newspaper last week, with a final edition on Sunday, was sensational, it was an appropriate response to the mounting anger from the public, government, politicians, the Church, and victims including the royal family, media, business, military personnel, and celebrities that threatened to engulf Murdoch’s global media empire. Declaring the paper toxic, Murdoch’s heir-apparent James and Chief Executive Rebekah Brooks amputated the NoW as if it were a gangrenous toe on the otherwise healthy body of NI. There has been a flurry of activity since — inquiries launched, staff dismissed, and illegal practices condemned — but two big questions remain: How was it allowed to happen? And who condoned it (and is therefore responsible)?

While Andy Coulson, Brooks’s successor as NoW editor, was forced to resign in 2007 after revelations about phone hacking on his watch, Murdoch has remained fiercely loyal to Brooks, perhaps as a firewall against his son James. He has also sacrificed 200 journalists to keep her in her post, despite clamours from all sides, including the prime minister, for her resignation. One MP went so far as to say that under her watch, NI entered the criminal underworld. However surprised or shocked Rupert Murdoch and his executives now claim to be, and whatever denials they made in the past, ruthlessness and aggression have always been part of NI’s DNA. And whether or not senior executives knew everything about the hacking scandal, it is clear that they all embraced the brutal and aggressively commercial culture of their organization. They doubtless also knew deep down that they had a critical role in defining organizational climate and culture, and a responsibility to ensure it did not veer into brutality and bullying.

Central to the story is the fact that NI is essentially a family-run empire, presided over by an ailing but still powerful patriarch. According to Michael Wolff, author of a biography of Rupert Murdoch, the practically Byzantine nature of the Murdoch family, with its powerful scions and simmering feuds, should not be overlooked if we are fully to understand the past and future destiny of the Murdoch empire.

Murdoch and his key lieutenants are in for a very bumpy ride. As the son of an Australian media baron, Murdoch has a long experience of the media. Interestingly, one of the first things he did when he acquired the NoW in 1969, was to sack its editor, joking later: “He was too nasty even for me.” Forty-two years later, the Dirty Digger, as he became known in the British press, has sacked the NoW itself for being too toxic.

But the world has moved on and this may not be enough to stem the poison. Print media is declining and in these digital times everyone can speak out against bad practices, hypocrisy, and lies. The spell that Murdoch has long cast over the political and media establishment has been broken. Grand gestures, shows of public contrition, and compensatory actions will probably not halt the very public unravelling of News International, nor shield the Murdoch name and empire from its impending nemesis.

Gill Corkindale is an executive coach and writer based in London, focusing on global management and leadership. She was formerly management editor of the Financial Times.

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